


We Both Go Down Together

by liketheysay



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: F/M, Hannibal Lecter Loves Will Graham, Hannibal is missing, Jack Crawford is tired of this shit, M/M, Memory Loss, Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Post-Fall (Hannibal), Someone get Molly out of this mess, Texting, Will Graham is learning to love Hannibal, Will loses his memory (just a lil)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-19
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-09 22:14:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27573629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liketheysay/pseuds/liketheysay
Summary: Will wakes up in a hospital a week after the night of the Dragon and struggles to remember what happened to him that night. Jack Crawford is eager to dig information out of him and Molly is eager to get back to life as it used to be before Will was pulled back into this life. But what does Will want? And where is Hannibal?Please note that the tags will change as I update the fic! Who knows where this will lead ;)
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter, Will Graham/Molly Graham, hannigram
Comments: 8
Kudos: 43





	We Both Go Down Together

**Author's Note:**

> Titled borrowed from a Decemberists song of the same name. Comments and criticisms are welcome! This is unbeta’d (as per usual) so please forgive any mistakes. Happy reading!

_“Here on these cliffs of Dover,_  
_so high you can't see over._  
_And while your head is spinning,_  
_hold tight, it's just beginning”_

***

One week after the fall, Will woke up.

The room he found himself in was bright white and smelled like a dentist’s office. Streams of blinding light peaked in through the window to his left. Will groaned and squinted, turning away. His cheek felt tacky against the pillow, his head throbbing in waves of dull pain. He tried raising an arm to cover his eyes but was met with a sharp tug on the back of his hand. A steady beep emanated from a monitor behind him. Everything was a blur.

_More hospitals?_ Will thought to himself.

Perhaps he was here to visit Molly. He thought back to the last time he saw her face and wondered for a moment how she was doing— he promised they’d be back home, that things could return to the way they were. And she was in love enough to believe him. Sure, he knew he’d change for the worse, but Molly wouldn’t have to be a part of it. When the time came she would welcome him home with open arms and he’d gradually find himself feeling safe again, feeling normal.

But Will forgot one thing. 

He forgot how easily Hannibal could overwhelm him— how he could crawl deep under Will’s skin, making a home for himself there, climbing inside his ribcage like a starling stealing the nest of a sparrow. He misjudged how terribly at home he made Will feel despite everything he knew.

Will had become complacent in the span of time spent apart from Hannibal, rusty even. But it was what he had wanted. He wanted to forget, to unlearn the insidious pressures placed upon him by the FBI. He wanted to walk out of the shadow that had followed him wherever he went and watched over him as he slept. Will wanted out from that life. He craved transformation, a redesign of character and environment. And he got what he wanted, for a while.

Slowly Will realized he was mistaken; this was not Molly’s hospital room, but his own. How did he get here? He struggled to remember the precise series of events which might have landed him in yet another hospital bed. He shut his eyes and tried to stitch together the quick flashes he managed to conjure up: the interview with Chilton and the resulting catastrophe, the Dragon’s faked suicide, the pretty please. Something must have gone wrong, but what? And how?

Will flinched as another wave of pain surged through his head. Just then, he heard footsteps in the hall and the click of a door handle.

“Mr. Graham, it’s good to see you up”

The rather tired-looking nurse walked to the window and lowered the blinds just enough so the remaining stream of light landed across Will’s chin. 

“That pesky morning sun will get ya,” he quipped. 

Will wasn’t exactly in the mood for jokes.

“I- can you” Will struggled to get the words out, closing his eyes firmly in an attempt to jolt himself into a fuller consciousness.

As Will stuttered, the nurse crossed the room and adjusted Will’s pillow as best he could and promptly logged something in to the computer at his bedside.

“It’s all right, Mr. Graham,” he said calmly, “Your brain is waking up. It’s normal to feel a bit confused or frustrated,” 

“Can you pl- can you tell me what happened? I don’t re- don’t remember”

At that, Will noticed how the nurse’s expression sank a little, brow furrowing for just a moment before returning to his professional demeanor. 

“Well, Mr. Graham… you’ve been in a medically induced coma for 8 days. You’ve suffered some serious injuries from your fall, or… _presumably_ from a fall. Try to stay comfortable, I’ll fetch the doctor and call Mr. Crawford,”

“Jack?”

The nurse turned before exiting the room, “Yes, Jack Crawford. He’s been very concerned about your health. I’m surprised he’s not here now, actually”

Will was somehow more confused now than he was when he first woke up. He looked down at himself with bleary eyes— there seemed to be more bandages than man. As soon as he noticed the gauze wrapped tightly around his shoulder, he felt a sudden twinge of electric pain shoot through his arm. Will shut his eyes again and squeezed his fists into the sheets. He used every ounce of concentration he could muster and walked backwards in time, letting the pendulum swing behind his eyelids. He took a step back and felt nothing but air beneath his feet. He kept moving backwards until he felt the blood dripping from his jaw, the sting of a knife entering his shoulder. He heard the echoes of voices around him, panting and grunting in the dark. He didn’t dare open his eyes.

When time moved forward again it happened in a gallop, moving too quickly for Will to hold onto anything concrete. But then he felt something, the infernal heat of another body, his hands clutching for it, urgent and hungry. He heard himself speak, and then... 

_The fall._ In an instant Will’s mind was flooded with the cold memory of wind violently rushing past him, striking his face like salt to a wound. He felt the night’s air enveloping him, suffocating him like water filling his lungs. Will choked and opened his eyes, breathing erratically. He scrubbed his eyes as best he could with the IV still taped to the back of his hand and suddenly grew incredibly tired and heavy. He let his head drop back against the stiff pillow as sleep took him. 

***

For the next few days, Will flitted between sudden spells of dizziness and confusion as the doctors ran various tests, checked for signs of infection, rebandaged the still quite raw but steadily healing gash just above his left temple, and monitored his overall progress. They said he had sustained a head injury which resulted in a subarachnoid hemorrhage. He didn’t listen all that carefully as the doctors explained what exactly that meant for Will’s health, but as far as he could tell, he was going to be okay. He’d have to make arrangements for physical therapy should his speech continue to be stunted, perhaps some treatment to regain foggy memories, but for the most part he was quite lucky. One of the nurses mentioned that he must have a guardian angel watching over him. Will tried not to think too hard about that, however.

Will’s head had been shaved down to the scalp to make way for the procedure and ease of cleaning, but by now the thick jagged strands of the stitches were just barely poking out from the newly grown hair. Every now and then Will would move to brush a phantom curl out of his face only to be met with the soft tawny down of new hair. Although Will was never offered a mirror to see for himself, he was reminded of one significantly bad haircut he got as a kid. His father, intent on saving the thirteen dollars it would cost to take Will to a hairdresser, failed miserably while trimming his bangs which had a habit of settling directly in front of Will’s eyes. Unable to salvage the small tragedy, he ended up buzzing Will’s entire head. Will broke down into tears partially out of embarrassment but largely due to the loss of an easy hiding place— there was no longer a way to casually use his long hair as a tool to combat social situations. It felt like someone had disrobed him, left to fend for himself. 

Jack was the first to visit him in the hospital, although it was clear that despite the bouquet of yellow flowers and standard get well card, his motives were not entirely altruistic. He was obviously after information— information Will couldn’t quite yet provide. It wasn’t for lack of trying. Every time he dared to slip carefully back into the night of the Dragon, Will’s mind would immediately be flooded with the image of Hannibal ravenously biting into Dolarhyde’s throat, his sharp teeth tearing into the soft flesh, their shared blood splattered in the light of the pale moon. Will was left feeling positively flustered, skin hot to the touch. It was _thrilling._ And it had to stay off-limits for the time being. These memories were eager to build new rooms in Will’s mind palace, he could sense Hannibal waiting for him there. Will knew he had to tread carefully.

He still couldn’t piece together everything that happened that night, not that he really wanted to. Remembering everything with clarity certainly wouldn’t fare well for the life he had spent three years rebuilding. Maybe ignorance was bliss after all, but he wasn’t lying when Jack Crawford visited his hospital room the day after he woke up and asked if he knew whether Hannibal was alive or not. Straight to the point as usual.

The nurse on staff that day had been kind— unbelievably kind considering no one knew yet if Will Graham was a danger to the public. Will remembered her asking Jack to leave him be multiple times, giving Will a small smile and nod of recognition as she left the room.

“Mr. Crawford, really. I’m sorry, but it’s too soon to be asking him anything right now. He’s still in recovery. Let Mr. Graham rest for another day or two. Come back then,” she would say.

He made sure to be kind to her in return. No curt dismissals or unintentional rudeness. Always a please and a thank you, making eye contact when he remembered. General politeness. One day, maybe the fourth or fifth day in the hospital, Will asked her for a favor.

“Miss?” he spoke.

“Ellen,” she said smiling, gesturing to her name tag.

“Ellen. Do you know if there’s a newspaper nearby? A magazine or something? It gets a little boring lying around here all day,” 

That part was true, but what he really wanted was information about Hannibal, about anything regarding that night on the cliff. He needed to know what the public knew, and what they didn’t.

She gave him a sour look, probably unintentional. Her eyes lost their gleam as she came up with a reason why she couldn’t help him at this time.

Will knew better than to think she spoke of her own accord. Obviously she had been briefed before being assigned as his nurse, and it was no doubt Jack who had briefed her. Who knows what he had said.

“I really am sorry, Mr. Graham,” she said as she rebandaged the wound on Will’s shoulder, “I’ll see what I can do,”

With that, she left Will alone in his hospital room. He hated to admit it, but it was getting pretty boring.

***

Will was annoyed but not surprised that Jack was allowed to visit before his own wife. Two days after the events on the cliffside, Molly was released from the hospital in Maine where she was recovering from her own injuries dealt by the Dragon. She left Wally with her parents and soon made the drive to Maryland, checking into a hotel near the hospital where Will had been admitted.

She had planned on bringing Winston with as a surprise for Will, but she ended up turning the car around an hour into the drive after he proved to be far too scared of the confined space. She decided not to mention this to Will. He had enough to worry about as it is. She worried talking about the dogs would only make him miss them more.

Finally, four days after Will woke up, Molly was allowed to visit.

“From one hospital to another, huh?” Will managed a small smile and hoped it was convincing enough.

She laughed. Will was taken aback by how nice it felt to hear her laugh again, to see her smiling in front of him. There was still a faint yellow bruise blooming across her cheek, matching Will’s own. 

“How are you, handsome? I’ve missed you. You got me all worried,” her eyes began to glisten even as she smiled. She blinked to keep the tears at bay. 

“I’m okay,”

Molly sat on the edge of the bed and put her hand on his thigh, squeezing gently. She could see how tired he was. She remembered how she was barely able to keep up her spirits when Will visited her in the hospital a few weeks ago. She knew this had to be harder for Will.

“We’ll be out of here soon, yeah?” she held her voice tight in her chest.

“Yeah. We will,”

Will couldn’t quite look her in the eye, instead letting his gaze find the small gem on Molly’s ring finger. He ignored the sudden shift in his gut, an ugly thing that curled around his heart and gripped it. He was relieved to see Molly, he reminded himself. She would bring him back to Maine and they would let life resume. He couldn’t let himself entertain anything else.

A few days later, Will was released from the hospital. Molly drove them to their hotel room which was significantly larger than the one he had booked himself while he investigated the Dragon’s murders. It had a small living area, a kitchenette equipped with a microwave and coffee maker, and a separate room for sleeping. Even though Will had spent the last week doing hardly anything other than lying in bed, he eagerly made his way to the queen-sized mattress and stretched out atop the starchy covers. A few hours later, Molly woke him with the busy sounds of dinner being made. Nothing but two microwaved frozen dinners, but still somehow better than the hospital’s food. 

“Jack called,” Molly said.

“Of course he did. What did he have to say?”

“Oh, you think I answered? I’ve seen that number enough times on caller ID to know when to avoid it,”

Will chuckled. It was nice like this, playing at being normal again. 

Just then, the phone rang again. They both looked at each other and kept eating. It wasn’t much good, though. The phone kept ringing even as the sun crossed the horizon. Sometimes Molly would answer the phone and put Jack on hold until he gave up. Will was grateful, but he knew he’d have to give in sometime. And it would likely be sooner rather than later.

In the morning, as expected, Jack called. 

“Will this guy ever let up?” Molly rolled over in bed and put her pillow over her head dramatically. 

Will let it ring as he got up and brushed his teeth with the plastic toothbrush Molly bought him from the hospital gift store. He knew Jack had an endless list of questions to ask him and wouldn’t stop calling until, A) he was sure Hannibal was dead or, B) Will confessed to something. He wanted Will to come into the bureau to run through what he remembered about the night of the Dragon. It would be a long, tedious process and Will wanted to delay it for as long as possible. 

He couldn’t shake the feeling that he was in hiding. The more he evaded Jack’s calls, the more he skirted around the unpleasant details (and not so unpleasant, if he was being completely honest), the more it looked like he was running. Like he was hiding something. And in a way, he was. 

Will sat on the sofa with a cup of coffee and waited for Jack’s next call. He looked out the living room window as he took a sip. It was an overcast day, the ground still glistening with morning frost. For a moment, he wondered what might have happened to Hannibal. He wondered if he was cold, huddled beneath a bridge or something… or maybe he was dead. Will’s stomach lurched again and he felt his heart tighten. This was dangerous territory, he knew it was. What good was feeling safe and normal if Hannibal could be out there somewhere, alone? Will couldn’t tell if he was more concerned for Hannibal’s wellbeing or if he just wanted closure.

He hadn’t even finished his coffee before he heard the increasingly familiar ringing coming from his cellphone.

“You've been avoiding me,” 

Will sighed.

“Call back tomorrow, Jack. I promise we can talk then,”

“That’s not how this works, Will. I need to see you,”

“Okay, okay. Fine. Noon tomorrow?”

“Noon it is,”

“It’s room 516,” 

_Not that you don’t already know that,_ Will thought.

Will hoped their conversation tomorrow would be as short and sweet as their phone calls. And if he didn’t prepare himself accordingly, it might end up more like an interrogation than the friendly chat Jack seemed to be promising.

Will decided that if he was going to talk with Jack about the night of the Dragon, he would have to try to remember. Remember just enough to get Jack out of his hair. 

He leaned his head back again and concentrated on what he could readily remember of that night— the voices in the dark, the sound of breaking glass, the pavement splattered with blood. The pain, the exhilaration, _the becoming_. Will remembered the hunger he felt then, the primal craving set deep within his stomach. It was the same ache he felt whenever he saw Hannibal. But it wasn’t the same Will sitting on the sofa now, the Will who goes grocery shopping with his wife and eats frozen dinners in hotel rooms. The Will Graham who walks his dogs along the shoreline of Moosehead Lake and fishes out on the frosty ice in the wintertime. It couldn’t be. Despite everything he felt on the cliffside that night, there could be no alternative here, not anymore. _And yet…_

Will couldn’t help but be pulled into the memory of his head against Hannibal’s chest, shivering at the way his words reverberated a low growl against Will’s ear. He knew at that moment that he could no longer save the Will Graham he wanted so badly to be. There would be no more balancing of two lives. He had to let himself die. 

As Will was coming out of this revelation, he heard Molly walk out of the bedroom still dressed comfortably in her pajamas. Will forcefully pushed away the voice in his head that reminded him how this sight used to make him smile, how Molly had a calm way of greeting the day in her own time.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Hm?”

“You’ve got tears in your eyes, look—”

She reached out and placed a single finger at the corner of Will’s eye, finding the pool of wetness there.

“Oh. Uh, it’s nothing,”

He saw Molly frown for a moment, knowing this was a lie. But she didn’t poke further. Instead, she grabbed his now cooled coffee mug and gave Will a quick kiss to his forehead before walking to the kitchen to reheat the coffee. Will sighed and quietly dreaded Jack’s visit tomorrow. It was hard enough to sit here alone and recount what all happened that night, he didn’t want to do that with an audience.

Everything had seemed so untouchable then, uncomplicated. He had to find a way to remember without being sucked back into it all, without getting flooded with the thought of Hannibal’s mouth covered in blood, matching Will’s own, his throat within biting distance. It was dizzying to remember these things. To go back and retrieve those moments as if somebody else had lived them would be a disservice to the memory. Will wanted to hold onto them like souvenirs kept lovingly on the windowsill, let them collect dust if they have to. They were for him to protect— or to destroy, whatever suited him best.

***

There was a knock at the door.

“Afternoon, Mrs. Graham” Jack briefly lifted the brim of his hat.

Molly chuckled at his instinctual formality.

“It’s Molly,” she responded.

“I’m certainly glad to see you’re doing better. Walter is a tough kid. You should be proud,”

“Well, he shouldn’t have been in that situation in the first place, should he have?”

They both stood silently for a moment, still learning how to deal with the other.

Molly sighed.

“I’m sorry, Jack. It seems I’ve got some demons to work through myself,” She gestured for him to enter the room.

He took a seat across from the sofa and shrugged off his jacket, leaving it wedged behind him and the back of the chair.

“Will’s in the bathroom, but he’ll be out soon,” she assured him, “Can I get you something? Water, coffee?”

“No, thank you. I’m okay for now,”

Molly nodded. She waited for a few moments, considering how impolite it would be to ask Jack how long he planned on visiting. Instead, she silently walked to the bedroom and closed the door behind her. Best to give them privacy.

Meanwhile, Will splashed his face with water in the bathroom. He took a long look at himself— the discolored and sunken skin around his eyes, the egregious wound to his cheek, the way his shaved head drew attention to his ears. He sighed and made his way to the living room sofa.

“So are you here to tell me the official narrative, Jack? Compare notes, try to set the record straight?”

“Something like that,” 

The air between them was stale. Whatever friendship they had once shared was now buried by years of fatigued trust and small indignations. He didn’t need Hannibal to isolate himself from Jack, he could do that himself. Maybe this was how it was always meant to be.

“I’m gonna ask you some questions, Will. I don’t expect you to know all the answers. I want you to know that this is strictly protocol,”

“Go ahead, Jack,”

Will leaned back into the sofa. He wasn’t nearly as prepared as he wanted to be, but maybe it’s better like this.

“You arrived at the hospital with stitches already in your shoulder and face. The doctor said they looked professionally done. Do you remember how you got to the hospital, Will?”

“No,”

That was the truth. So far so good.

“Alana left the country. She’s afraid Lecter will come after her and her family,”

“That’s probably smart of her,”

“I’ll ask you again, Will. Do you know if he’s out there? Is he alive?”

“I don’t know,”

Jack’s face made the same expression Will had seen him wear so often, a mix of annoyed frustration and defeat. He cleared his throat and took out a manila envelope from his briefcase, calmly sliding out a few glossy photographs. He placed them on the coffee table facing Will and pointed at the photo on top of the pile. Despite the rough smears of dried blood and the thin row of stitches, Will recognized his injured shoulder instantly. The bruising had significantly decreased since then, but it was clear what he was looking at. After a moment Jack lifted the photo out of the way to reveal another image, this time showing Will’s wounded cheek, similarly mended. It was swollen and intensely red.

“Who do you think could have done this?” 

“I was unconscious, Jack,”

“The question is how you became unconscious, and when. We found Dolarhyde’s body outside that house on the cliff. He wasn’t just dead, Will. He looked like he had been hunted by a pack of animals,”

Will brought his gaze up to meet Jack’s, having nothing to offer in response.

“Were you awake when this happened, Will?”

Did he watch from the windows? Did he sit there politely as Hannibal melded with the strength of the Dragon? Or did you participate? Did you enjoy it, Will? This is what Jack wanted to know. Will could hear these questions hidden between Jack’s breath.

Before he could respond, Molly walked out from the bedroom and into the kitchen for a glass of water. Will got the feeling she interrupted on purpose. He didn’t mind. The two men sat silently as she moved past them. Once the bedroom door was closed, Jack began again, quieter this time.

“When you first suggested faking Lecter’s escape to lure the Dragon, I caught a glimpse of this world, Will. But I fought it. I listened to you because I trust you, I trust your mind. But your… complicated feelings for Hannibal have not escaped me, ”

Will winced as he spoke. Jack watched him carefully, sounding genuine for the first time in this conversation. He leaned forward in his seat and clasped his hands tightly. When he spoke again, it was nearly a whisper.

“You told me a part of you would always want to run away with him. You two understood each other. I don’t think I’ll ever understand that, but I can see it plain as day, Will,”

Will watched Jack’s hands. He wished he were wearing glasses, he felt too bare to be having this conversation.

“You said it would look authentic if the public thought Lecter had escaped in earnest. Did you plan an escape with him?”

“No,”

Jack looked a bit relieved. He wasn’t asking the right questions.

“Okay,” he said.

“Is that all?” Will knew he was being rude, but he didn’t care. 

“Doesn’t seem like I’m any better off now, does it?”

“I’m sorry, Jack. I can’t help you,”

Jack reached forward and collected the photos and filed them back into the envelope then into the briefcase. 

“Maybe not now. But you will,”

It sounded like a threat. He stood and put on his jacket, stopping at the door before leaving.

“Maybe I should have never pulled you out of your life in Maine,”

“Maybe you should never have pulled me out of my classroom,”

Jack sighed, but he wasn’t offended. He had often thought the same thing.

Once Jack was gone, Molly came out of the bedroom and positioned herself on the arm of the sofa next to Will, obviously relieved to hear Jack go. She put her free hand at the back of Will’s neck and played with an unruly tuft of hair.

“So, do you think he believes you?”

Will let out a harsh breath, sounding unintentionally cruel. Molly knew better, though.

“What do you mean does he believe me?”

She sighed and brought her hands to her lap, watching them carefully.

“I’m not stupid, Will,”

“I know that,”

“You also know that you can tell me stuff, right?” Molly smiled a little then and added, “I’m a good listener, Will. I want to hear it,”

She had grown used to never asking about Will’s past, instead patiently waiting for the moments where Will might let her in willingly. She pictured his past like an elaborate, spiraling maze, each corridor ending in a series of locked doors. She could try to search for the key or wait for Will to emerge and open them himself, guiding her carefully inside. And sometimes, he did. 

She thought back to a particularly lazy afternoon with Will at Moosehead Lake. Wally was away at summer camp and they had the cabin to themselves for a few days. Molly organized a simple picnic overlooking the water, complete with homemade lemonade and cold cut sandwiches. They laid outstretched on the warm grass underneath one of their favorite trees, Molly’s hand eventually finding its way to Will’s belly. She felt the hard scar spanning across him with her fingers. She remembered how he abruptly grabbed her hand, a touch too firmly at first, before cautiously bringing it up to his heart instead. They laid in silence for a few moments before Will spoke. He shared what Molly imagined to be a severely abridged version of how he received this scar, noticeably skimming over exactly _who_ gave it to him. When Molly asked, he told her it was a ghost. 

After a minute of silence, Will finally met Molly’s eyes. He knew she was right. She deserved to hear it, whatever _it_ was, and she deserved to know all of it. And yet… he couldn’t bring himself to say the right words. How? How to articulate what has only ever been a deeply personal torment? An unsatiated creeping hunger hidden in the center of him until someone came along and worked his way in?

Will felt a sense of intimacy towards these thoughts about himself, about the damage to his body, about Hannibal. It was private. There was no way to explain everything to Molly and make sure she got the right idea, because there was no right idea. There was just a cavernous pit full of words and lies and… love. Will stopped there.

“Molly, I don’t know what to say. Really, it’s just blank to me. There’s nothing to tell,”

“If there was nothing to tell then you wouldn’t have to hide your past from me. People tell each other things, Will, _married_ people tell each other things. I want to hear about you. I want to actually know you,” She reached out and held his hands between hers, stroking her thumb against the rough skin.

“The whole mystery man thing is charming, don’t get me wrong, but after a while…” she paused for a moment, trying to put lightly the severity of her feelings, “After a while, I just wanna be able to call you mine. Sometimes I feel like I don’t have any claim over you at all. God, I know that sounds bad, I don’t mean I want to _own_ you, just…” she trailed off, suddenly flustered.

Will moved his hand out from between her grasp and squeezed them gently, easily borrowing the role of comforter and making it his own.

“You do know me, Molly. All that I’ve told you is all that there is. And thank you, by the way, for being here with me. For making every day we’ve spent together a good day,”

He blushed at his own words, but he meant them.

“I see what you did there but it was sweet, so I’ll let it slide,” She got up from the arm of the sofa, deciding it best to leave Will alone for the time being, “I love you too, hot shot. We’re not done talking about this though, so remember that,”

“I’ll remember,” he gave her a small smile as he looked up at her, reassuring. He was glad the conversation was over.

***

Will avoided his thoughts for the rest of the day. He played house with Molly as he had once been accustomed to and ignored the tightness in his chest even as it climbed higher and higher inside him. He pushed it down, a futile attempt to swallow it whole.

Later in bed that night, Will focused on Molly’s small snores and tried to match his breath to hers. He would often do this when he felt unbalanced, when he felt like he couldn’t count on his own body to get him through the night. He stared at the dark ceiling of the hotel room, watching as the shadows of trees danced across the room. Suddenly the room illuminated in a blue light coming from his bedside table. 

_Not Jack again,_ he thought to himself.

Will ran a hand over his face and tilted the cellphone towards him so he could see. 

**Will, I’m sorry I left you. I wish I could explain, but now isn’t the time. You required medical attention and, given the circumstances, I could not manage it on my own. I hope you will forgive me. Please delete this number from your phone when you are finished.**

Will was dumbstruck. Could it really be…? Of course, but how? He looked over at Molly who was still soundly asleep. He sat up in bed and typed a reply without thinking.

**Are you safe?**

And then, not a minute later, a ding: 

**Yes, Will. I’ll see you soon. I promise.**

See him soon? How was that possible? Will felt the tightness in his chest return, wrapping itself firmly around his heart, throbbing in dubious synchrony. He coughed once, then again, suddenly finding it hard to breathe.

Molly turned her head lazily toward him.

“You okay?” she asked with eyes closed.

“I’m fine, go back to sleep, Mol,”

“Mhm,” 

She cozied into the covers again. Will got up and walked to the bathroom, locking the door behind him. He stared at himself in the mirror and watched his chest heave erratically as he tried to catch his breath. He leaned over the sink and coughed again, hoping to expel whatever it is that had been living within him, but it held tight. He cupped some water in his hands and brought it to his mouth, swallowing the cold water in a single gulp. Nothing seemed to bring calm to his senses.

Will closed his eyes and suddenly felt the air around him change, letting the pendulum swing behind his eyelids once again, the hair on his neck slick with sweat. He reached forward towards the countertop, seeking balance, but felt his hands tug on something soft and damp. He moved his hand upwards, tracing the shape of a shoulder and up further to a neck as slick as his own. Gripping tight, he felt the veins pulse slow and steady, calming Will.

_“This is all I ever wanted for you, Will. For both of us…”_

Will melted into the phantom touch. He didn’t want to open his eyes ever again.

**Author's Note:**

> Considering the fact that I tend to be a slow and tedious writer, chapter two might take me another month to finish... I would love for this fic to continue for as many chapters as I can manage, so please do let me know if you're interested in hearing more/what you'd like to see! Much love xx


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